The First Star
by ThimbleKisses
Summary: Wendy Darling leaves Neverland to grow up but takes with her a small green vial of special Pixie Dust from Peter. A vial to give her one last trip to Neverland. Life carries on and Wendy has children of her own - the vial is forgotten. Until Wendy's daughter Jane finds it and impulsively uses it. Little does she know what it contains has been tampered with by a certain pirate...
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

"So I guess this is goodbye then?" Wendy Darling allowed the tears to fall from her sky blue eyes and roll down her face. She hated goodbyes but none were quite as terrible as this one. The one where she was going to have to lose the boy… her boy. Who knows when she'll see him next? If at all.

"Hey now Wendy-bird," the boy looked away from the ship's helm and faced his friend. He stepped towards her and softly took her hand in his. "This is not the end. Nor will there ever be an end for us –"

"But Peter –" she tried to interrupt, her brows furrowed. Her boy placed his finger to her lips. "Hush my Wendy-bird. I will visit all the time! To hear stories – about me! And all of my adventures! Maybe next time I could actually meet the famous Cinderella and we could fight Hook and Blackbeard together? I mean she can't do it on her own. She needs the great Peter Pan to help her win!"

Through her tears, Wendy managed a weak smile and a small giggle escaped from her lips. "There now all better!" He smiled, trying to hide the sadness in his own hazelnut eyes. "Alright men!" Peter shouted down to his Lost Boys. "Lower the anchor – but watch Big Ben"! The Boys saluted their captain and slowly (and carefully!) began to lower the anchor down into the city of London.

As Wendy's younger brothers, John and Michael, ran to the side of the great ship to watch, Wendy only had eyes for Peter. Peter Pan. He had brought her back home like she had wanted but her heart ached, mourning the loss of her adventures in Neverland and having to leave her new friends behind.

"I do wish I could stay Peter," Wendy whispered, still clutching his hand tightly in hers. But as she saw his expression change from one of melancholy to hope, she forced herself to add: "but I just can't. We have to grow up." Doing his best to shrug his sadness away, Peter Pan grasped her other hand and spun her around the ship's deck. "Well then"" he cried. "I shall just come back to visit and bring you back with me sometimes!" It all sounded so simple and fun coming out of Peter's grinning mouth that Wendy had to laugh along. Her auburn hair flew out behind her and the blue bow holding it neatly in place caught the wind, freely dancing its way down off the platform and onto the main deck where it lay forgotten in its owner's glee.

As their feet began to ache, Wendy wiped her eyes and started to slow. She glanced down and saw her brothers saying their goodbyes to the Lost Boys. She then raised her head to see the ship was resting on the roof of her home. They had arrived and it was time to go.

John shook the hands of each Lost Boy chanting "I won't forget you Slightly old chap…keep practising that shot Curly my lad…take care of yourself ol' Nibs…" Wendy giggled to see they all looked rather perplexed at John's hand wiggling farewells but they played along as best they could, swinging his arm from side to side as he tried in vain to lead them in the more traditional upward then downward motion of an English handshake. She looked at Michael tiredly dragging Teddy along the deck tightly hugging his friends in turn. She smiled to see they seemed to understand this action a lot more.

Peter sadly took her hand in his once more and led Wendy down the steps to join her brothers. "Attention! Lost Boys, line up and say goodbye to Mother!" he called. Wendy passed by each boy giving them a loving squeeze. "I will miss you all so much boys. Do take care of each other and remember to take your medicine."

"We will Mother," they chorused, sniffing and wiping their eyes fiercely on their furry sleeves.

Peter was next. He patted Michael on the head (not forgetting to ruffle Teddy's fur), and wiggled John's hand. "See ya soon boys!" he said, grinning that cheeky boyish grin that made Wendy's legs feel like jelly.

Then Wendy stood in front of Peter Pan. She ran her gaze all over his face and body, drinking him in so as not to forget a single part of her hero and her friend. "Goodbye Peter" she said shakily. "I shall never forget you."

"This isn't goodbye Wendy. We'll see each other again - you can count on it." He then reached into the small leather pouch he kept attached to his belt and pressed a tiny glass vial into her hand. It was filled with fluorescent green dust. A type of Pixie Dust. "Just a small gift from me to you Wendy. Tink used her special stuff for ya. Y'know just in case you miss me too much." He winked cheekily and added, "it's just enough for one trip and one person I'm afraid." Wendy's eyes began to fill once more. "Oh thank you Peter!" she whispered. "Thank you from the bottom of my heart. Really. I shall treasure it." Wendy stopped, overcome with emotion.

"Just promise me you'll save it for a special trip, okay?" The usual twinkle in Peter's eyes turned serious for a second. Wendy nodded, slipping her precious token onto the silver chain that hung around her neck. The vial rested next to her acorn kiss. "I shall miss you," Peter whispered, pulling her in for one final hug. He rubbed his nose into her hair, enjoying her sweet smell before he knew it was time to let her go.

Wendy slowly pulled away and the Darling children stepped off the ship and glided through the open nursery window. Wendy, John and Michael stood in their room and saw it looked exactly how they had left it. As if they had never left. Happy to be among familiar things again, the boys smiled and contentedly made their way to bed. John hung his hat on the bed knob and rested his umbrella against the bedside table. Why on earth had he taken that thing anyway? It wasn't raining after all and Neverland seemed like a sort of Tropic Island. He tutted at his own foolishness, removed his glasses and immediately fell asleep. Michael climbed into his own bed, tucked Teddy in his rightful place into the crook of his arm and promptly began snoring as well.

Wendy on the other hand took a moment to survey her room and sighed. Her emotions were a confused jumble of joy at being home and seeing Mother and Father in the morning and sadness at leaving behind her friends and her Neverland.

Suddenly there was a large gust of wind and startled, Wendy rushed back to the open window. "G'bye Wendy-bird" was the last thing she heard, so faintly, as if the wind had gently whispered a lullaby in her ear. Wendy's eyes searched the sapphire heavens but all she saw was an empty night sky and a single shooting star.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Many years have now passed since that final day and Wendy is a woman. Even though she fought it and fought it, tears streaming down her face with every inch she grew, she soon became tired of fighting and surrendered to the inevitable. Her curled auburn hair is now tied up off her heart-shaped face, neatly pinned out of the way and her old blue nightgown long since outgrown is replaced by a blue pinafore with a simple white apron. The perfect housewife. She is married to a kind and loving gentleman who goes to work in the office every day and brings home pretty presents for his pretty wife. Life is normal.

Wendy then became a mother. She was so worried that she was not ready, that it was just too grown up, that the child would not be interested in her stories about far off magical lands and a boy who can fly. But when her Jane came along, so beautiful and inquisitive and eager to listen to her stories, all fears flew away. She would sit telling adventurous tales to her daughter and now to both her daughter and her son in the old nursery at number 27. Edward bought the house off Mr Darling when the old man found he could no longer battle the stairs every day. He had hated living alone in the big house once shared with his late wife. Mary passed away quietly a few years prior. She died as she had lived, gently and without fuss. Just drifted off to sleep to visit the Neverlands herself. George lives down the street in a retirement home a stone's throw away from John's new house.

John. The first of the Darling children to quickly adapt and fit back into life in London. He grew up first without complaint, went to university and was soon buying ties and a briefcase for work at his father's bank. He married one of the bank managers' daughters, Average Audrey as Wendy secretly calls her sister-in-law, and they live frugally with their twin equally average daughters Matilda and Maude. Wendy is certain her sister-in-law was raised by skipping over childhood and reaching adulthood before she could toddle. Sufficed to say, the weekly family dinners on a Sunday afternoon were often slightly tense. George Darling would watch in bewildered amusement as somehow it always came round to his grandchildren arguing over the existence of flying people or Tinker-whatsits and other types of poppycock that he can't quite hear or remember anyway.

You may have noticed the absence of the youngest Darling child. Michael Darling, last to grow up, clung tightly to his sister's stories and even when she was married and tried to speak of their adventures less often (for fear of her new husband thinking her a very confused woman), he would beg to hear just a little more. Always playing with his toy cars and fire engines, Michael eventually grew up to drive tanks for the army. When 1914 rolled around and he was enlisted, I am sad to report that Michael Darling was taken from this Earth, mere months before his mother joined him, as Wendy always said most likely due to heartbreak at losing her youngest child.

On a happier note, even though Nana passed away many years ago from simply old age, Wendy still has her puppy Nana II. Like her mother before her, Nana II ardently cares for Wendy's children and helps her mistress bathe and bed them every night, whilst eagerly listening to the stories too.

And so we come to a fairly typical day in the household of Wendy and Edward. Well at the moment it is just Wendy's as her husband is still away fighting. This is a constant worry for Wendy as he is fighting the same War that took her beloved little brother and she lies awake at night in terror that her children could be fatherless someday soon. But every morning she forces these fears aside and glides into her children's nursery and wakes them with a story; a story about pirates and fairies and boys who never grow up.

This morning is no different from any other. After yet another night of broken sleep, Wendy goes into the nursery and sees her daughter already awake. Jane, dressed in her favourite lavender nightgown and grey cardigan, sits at her desk scribbling away in her notebook. "Probably writing a to-do list or something," Wendy thinks to herself. When Edward left for France three years ago, he asked Jane to take care of her mum and Danny and since then, Jane tries to act grown up and more mature than her thirteen years.

Daniel snuffles and whimpers on the other side of the room, his little hands clenched into fists in front of his face. Wendy sits on his bed and gently takes his hands into hers. "There, there my love. It's only a dream." Her soft voice awakens Danny who clings to his mother.

"H-Hook was going to scratch my face with his hook! And I couldn't find Peter! I w-was screaming b-b-but he didn't come." Danny's nut brown eyes fill with tears and run down his face. Wendy strokes his back reassuringly.

"Now Danny. Peter Pan would never abandon a fellow Lost Boy! I'm sure he was on his way. Those pesky pirates were probably blocking his way –"

"Oh Mother," Jane interrupts, sighing. She puts down her pencil and faces her family. "It was just a silly old dream, Daniel. It doesn't mean anything."

"Well actually Jane something very similar happened to me once," Wendy says, trying to ignore her daughter's disparaging eye roll. "You see Danny, we were all tied up together on the Jolly Roger and Hook ordered us to either join his crew or to walk the plank. And of course I could never do that to Peter so I agreed to walk the plank…"

Wendy's story is met with a gleeful gasp from Danny. Despite herself, Jane slowly edges closer to her mother to hear the story better.

The sparkle in Wendy's blue eyes dims slightly as she sadly remembers her company. "So Hook cut me loose from the Lost Boys and your u-uncles and jabbed me in the back with his sword! He pushed me forward until I was balancing precariously at the very edge of the plank. I could hear the _tick tock tick tock_ of the crocodile who was swimming closer and closer to where I was standing. I could feel my legs shaking and my mind racing as I hoped and prayed for Peter to fly and rescue me. I had complete faith that he had survived Hook's bomb and would be on his way. But as Hook's sword shoved me once more and my balance began to fail, my belief faltered and I suddenly worried that this would be the end. I would never see Grandmother and Grandfather again."

Danny is shaking with anticipation and barely able to contain his excitement. "What then? What then, Mamma?" Jane vaguely remembers her Mother telling this story a few months ago but for some reason that she can't quite put her finger on, she doesn't say anything.

"Well with one final swing of his sword, Hook pushed me off the plank and off the Jolly Roger! The Lost Boys and your… well… they shrieked and hollered at the pirates and fought against their bindings. And I fell down down down towards the crystal clear waters. I could see the crocodile swimming steadily towards me and I knew that the second I hit the water I was croc-food. I cried out for Peter but as I frantically scanned the horizon for him, I saw only the empty blood orange sky – "

"Technically blood is red, Mother, I don't see how –"

"Shhhhhhh Janey!" Danny yells, now jumping up and down on his bed.

"Just as I was about to fall into the ocean, I squeezed my eyes shut waiting for the splash and the freezing water to swallow me up before the fearsome beast did a few seconds later buuuuut….. who should suddenly grab hold of my waist and whoosh me up up up and away – "

"PETER PAN!" Danny grabs hold of his wooden sword and his green hat and swipes at invisible pirates. "ARGH! Janey we must help Peter save Mamma!" He tries to grab his sister's hand but she quickly pulls away.

"No Daniel. I must get on now. I don't have time for silly stories and games."

Danny's lower lip begins to wobble. "B-but we must defeat Hook together. Peter is busy! He's holding Mamma!"

Wendy stifles a giggle. "Come on Jane. Play along for your brother. Please?" She becomes serious and holds her daughter's stare, pleading with her eyes for Jane to not spoil her little brother's fun.

Suddenly infuriated with her Mother and her stories, Jane turns and stalks back across the room to her desk. She sits with her back to her family and picks up her pencil once more. Wendy sighs disappointed. "Don't worry Danny," she says hugging her son close to her, tickling under his chin and making him giggle and squirm in her arms. "Jane has important things to be getting on with right now. It'll just be me, you and Peter this time."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Today is now one of those dreaded Sunday afternoon's in late May where Wendy is nervously pacing the kitchen awaiting the arrival of her brother and his family. She anxiously fiddles with a strand of hair that just refuses to stay in her usually neat bun. These Sundays always seem to come around so quickly but then they last for such an uncomfortably long time.

Absentmindedly picking at the sleeve of her pale blue Sunday dress, Wendy sits at the table and lets her mind wander. Oh how she wishes things were different somehow. She finds herself staring at the family portrait that her father had commissioned for her 18th birthday. "20 years ago now… how much has changed," she sighs. A younger Wendy sits in the centre with Nana faithfully at her feet, a spattering of grey furs beginning to show on her muzzle. A shy girl on the brink of adulthood, she looks most self-conscious and like she would rather be anywhere else. A floaty turquoise dress, the perfect mix of blue and green, is beautiful but seems too grown up for the girl with innocence and longing in her eyes. A pair of silver earrings in the shape of leaves hang from her ears; a birthday present from her youngest brother, a reminder of a time maybe not as forgotten as John would like to believe.

To her left, John sits with his chin raised and his chest puffed out trying to seem taller and more mature than his thirteen years. _So sad. Thirteen was my age when we first travelled to Neverland,_ Wendy thinks sadly. But any hint of the pirate-loving child in the too-long nightgown, top hat and trusty umbrella is already long gone.

Mary and George stand proudly behind their daughter, dressed in their best clothes. Now that she looks closely at her dear mother's face, Wendy thinks she can see a slight tiredness in the kind woman's eyes. _It had been a long day… no thanks to me_ , Wendy thinks guiltily, remembering her defiance and anger at the idea of a party celebrating her age. Celebrating the fact that she was growing older… and growing further away from him.

Wendy forces herself to look at the last person in the portrait. Michael. Little Michael sits on Wendy's right, dressed in a suit that is far too big for his 9 years. His little head inclines towards his sister and it is clear to see the adoration in his eyes. The countless times he would ask to hear her stories gave her hope that it had not all been a dream like John always told them.

She turns away from the painting. Three years and seven months have passed since that terrible telegram and yet the pain still feels raw, clawing at her heart with such intensity that she wonders if it might break. Just like her mother's. She followed so quickly. They had barely even started to process losing little Michael and then suddenly in the space of a couple of months, they were to suffer again.

New Year's Eve 1914 was not one Wendy wanted to remember. The day after little Jane's eighth birthday. It had been a difficult one to keep smiling for her daughter. The first family occasion with one member painfully obviously missing. Jane's father Edward at least was able to get a few days holiday from his post overseas and the family pulled together to try to make it a special day for Jane. To be honest they all just wanted the dreadful year to be over.

Mary had been quietly sitting in the armchair watching over her family. Her granddaughter was dancing and playing with her baby brother who was now five months old and according to Jane, much more interesting; John with his sensible wife trying to restrain their six year old twins who wanted to play with the birthday girl; and her lovely Wendy who she knew wasn't fooled, with her watchful eyes scanning her beloved mother's tired face and thin frame.

Wendy sighs deeply remembering the last words her mother said to her. As her parents left the melancholic little party, Mary had taken Wendy to one side and whispered softly in her daughter's ear: "keep believing my darling. You need it. Your brother needs it even though he won't listen. Your father will need it. Keep my family together." She had touched her daughter's cheek and retired early to her bed. At these words, Wendy had realised her mother was saying goodbye and she was not too shocked when she was awoken in the middle of the night to be told by her father that Mary would not be waking up again. Wendy had known in her heart that her mother just could not welcome a new year without her youngest son being a part of it.

A sudden noise brings Wendy back to the present. Jane stomps into the kitchen, dragging a very miserable looking Danny behind her. Nana II trots into the room behind them. Both children were dressed in their Sunday best: Jane in a mint green dress with small puffed sleeves and tiny flowers along the bottom and Danny looking most uncomfortable in his little suit. His Peter Pan hat that Wendy lovingly made for his first birthday still sits on his head, luckily having grown with him three years later.

"Jane and Nana II don't want me to wear my hat, Mamma!" Danny whines, his lower lip wobbling a sure sign tears are a possibility. "But I s-said that Peter Pan never takes his hat off! It is his lucky charm to fight the pirates and win!"

"And _I_ said that even though we will _all_ need as much luck as we can get to get through today, your hat looks silly and babyish," snaps back Jane. "And we don't want to give the twins any more ammunition to tease you."

"It's not babyish!" shrieked Danny. "Peter Pan is a hero and hero's **aren't** babyish!"

Jane rolls her eyes and faces her mother. "But he looks so _silly_! And the twins will poke fun at him again and Uncle John will tut that he is getting to big to wear such things like he always does and Aunt Audrey will sneer and –"

"Now Jane," interrupts Wendy firmly. "If any of those things happen again I shall say something okay?" Jane folds her arms unconvinced. "Besides Danny," Wendy kneels in front of her young son. "Peter Pan would not want you to take it off, would he? He would say it's a part of who he is and if the pirates don't like it then they can be made to walk their own plank and _then_ see if they will say anything bad about his hat!" Wendy lifts her son into a huge cuddle and proceeds to fling him into the air, twirling him round and round. Danny stretches his arms out, shouting gleefully: "I can fly! I can fly!"

Jane looks on as her mother "flies" Daniel round the kitchen. "Mother! Do be careful watch out for his head on lamp! Come on this is ridiculous. They will be here soon and heaven knows what they'll say if they see this!" She shouts over her brother's shrieks of delight and her mother's laughter, frantically picking up Danny's toys from the floor. "Mother can you just – OW!" Jane cries out as Danny accidentally thwacks her on the head as he whizzes past. " _MOTHER!_ "

Wendy stops, bringing Danny back down to Earth and sets him on the kitchen floor. "Again again!" he shouts.

"Sorry my love enough flying for today. Let me see your poor old head Janey," she says. Seething with annoyance at the silly childish nickname, Jane stands still with her arms full of toys and lets her mother check her throbbing head. "No broken skin just a bit of a bruise coming there," Wendy diagnoses. "But with just a little bit of pixie dust we can get that fixed up back to normal can't we Danny?" she adds.

"Yes yes let's get the fairies to help Jane!" Danny jumps up and down and pulls at his sister's dress, trying to get her to join in the game.

"No Daniel!" cries Jane, as his tugging causes her to drop everything she was trying to put away. "Oh for goodness sake!" She roughly pushes her brother out of the way, causing him to lose his balance and topple over onto the hard floor.

"Jane!" Wendy rushes over to Danny who is now rubbing his elbow and crying. "Now look what you've done to your little brother. Say sorry this minute!"

"He shouldn't be so annoying when I'm busy!" Jane argues. "And these are all his things anyway… he should learn to tidy up after himself!"

"But Jane he's only –"

"That's no excuse, Mother. He should just grow up!"

Wendy gasps. "Jane _please_ can we just calm all this down and not say such –"

"I'll NEVER grow up!" screams Daniel.

"Why am I not surprised? Dear sister you must _stop_ putting those silly stories into your children's heads." Amidst all the shouting, Wendy, Jane and Danny hadn't noticed John Darling walk into the room.

 _And so it begins_ , thinks Wendy, groaning inwardly.


	4. Chapter 4

**A note from me:**

To the followers of this story I apologise for being away for so long! I have lacked motivation to come back to this story but recently (cheesy but it's true!) had a dream about another chapter idea for this story and suddenly the inspiration that I originally had for The First Star came flooding back. Hopefully I shall be posting another chapter very soon. If you have stayed with me and continue reading, thank you! You shall be hearing a lot more from me now. I hope you enjoy this chapter!

\- Thimblekisses xoxo

 **Chapter Four**

"John dear, how…nice to see you," says Wendy, forcing a smile as she picks up Danny and comfortingly rubs his back to stop his tears. John, his thinning hair neatly combed and his beard trimmed, receives his sister's kiss. He leans heavily on a thick wooden cane. It still seems strange to Wendy that her younger brother will now never walk without it and when he is at his most disagreeable, it is for this reason that she tries her best to forgive him his coldness. John Darling was one of the countless soldiers to be wounded in action in the first few months of the war. His injury proved too severe to keep him on the front line and he was forced to return to London and serve his country from home. As well as leaving his childhood and imagination behind and thus isolating himself from his siblings, John is left a bitter and guilt-ridden man who now depends on a stick to get him from place to place. Wendy cannot bear to imagine the horrors her family have seen overseas but she does wish her brother would try a little harder not to take it out on his family quite so much almost four years on.

Audrey, or "Average Audrey" to Wendy, sticks close to her husband's side and allows herself a small curt nod to her sister-in-law. Audrey's face is set in an expression similar to one if you constantly had a bad smell under your nose. Her piercing blue eyes and pointed nose give her rather a severe face, and this is highlighted further still with a mop of ash blonde hair pulled firmly into a tight bun. Wendy cannot recall ever seeing her smile.

Her twin daughters, Matilda and Maude sullenly trail in after their mother, clearly having been cajoled into attending the family dinner. The girls are alike in every way except for the elder-by-two-and-a-half-minutes Matilda's glasses, which are oversized for her petite, upturned nose. They resemble John's spectacles that he wore when he was a young boy. Both girls have their mother's fair hair pulled into tight pigtails but don't have the cheery addition of a bright piece of ribbon like Jane used to wear when she was their age a couple of years ago. Matilda and Maude have been raised in such a strict, story-less way so different from her own that it seems to Wendy they are growing up to be shadows of their mother and altered father; surly, unimaginative girls who pick a fight at every opportunity they are given.

At the back of the party, quietly observing his grown up family, stands George Darling. Now largely dependent on his children since the loss of his wife, Mr Darling keenly feels both her absence and that of his youngest son but rarely complains. He has mellowed into a shell of his old domineering, cantankerous self. Wendy finds that she gets on better with her father now but deeply feels his melancholy in missing her beloved mother and little Michael.

"Good afternoon, niece. I presume your studies are coming along well?" John breaks the uncomfortable silence and extends his hand for Jane to shake, which she reluctantly takes and nods mutely. Little Danny runs to his uncle and tries to hug his good leg but John quickly untangles himself, giving his nephew a distracted pat on the head. Feeling rejected, Danny clings to his mother as his Aunt and cousins also coldly greet them.

"How is work, John?" Wendy asks, knowing this is a topic in which her brother enjoys talking about. Anything to diffuse the usual tension these visits bring. Jane rolls her eyes and waits for hours of boredom where her uncle rambles on about his all-important work at the bank and how he is "assisting with the War Effort" even though he is at home. To her, it just always sounds as if he is trying to justify why he isn't fighting overseas like her father. Mother told her the story of John's terrible injury and his despair over the loss of their younger brother. _Maybe he carries some sort of guilt_ , she thinks. _Silly really Uncle Michael's death wasn't his fault._

"Oh work is okay thank you, Wendy," says John, taking off his glasses and cleaning them with the edge of his jacket. _A sign of nervousness,_ notices Wendy, worriedly. "It's all very busy and a lot of which I am not at liberty to divulge to persons outside of the company. But what I can say is that we are doing all we can to assist with the War Effort," John adds proudly, putting his glasses back onto his nose. Wendy notices a slight shake to his hand but chooses not to say anything.

Audrey stands by her husband's side but does nothing to ease her husband's discomfort. She merely looks around Wendy's kitchen and wrinkles her nose. "What is that smell, dear sister?" Wendy is irked by the way that Audrey says "dear sister", exaggerating the "dear" in such a false way that always makes Wendy feel like she is being belittled or patronised. "Well," she says through gritted teeth, "I've been saving our rationing coupons so we could have a nice joint of beef and we have vegetables from our allotment that Jane collected this morning." Wendy smiles as she remembers her surprise for after the meal. "Oh and we have a special treat for dessert too. I have managed to collect the ingredients to make a small Victoria sponge!" There is an audible excited gasp from all of the children, including the po-faced twins. Even Audrey's lips twitch slightly at the thought of a sponge cake.

"Well dinner will be ready very shortly so I suggest we head into the dining room to have a sit down." Wendy ushers her guests into the large dining room, which is one of her favourite rooms in the house, and this is not just because of the way it is decorated. It is the room in which her mother hosted many a delicious feast before the time of rationing. It is the room where Mary Darling would encourage the family to speak about the events of the day and share stories. These stories were often about Neverland but after their adventure, John and George huffed and puffed when the subject arose and so Wendy stopped telling her stories at the dining table. That is until thirteen years later when her children came along of course.

The dining room is beautifully decorated in forest greens and cream, with handmade flower and leaf garlands hanging from the curtain pole made by Wendy and Danny the previous day. The warm May sunshine streams into the room, illuminating the natural beauty of Wendy's colour choice. Audrey sniffs as she takes the seat with its back to the pretty garlands. "I have always thought this room is far too bright," she informs Wendy, as her eyes slide over the room disdainfully, "and its colours really aren't in fashion. Such vile shades of green. Reminds me of that horrible park near to this house." Wendy has to bite her tongue before responding with something cutting to her _vile_ sister-in-law. She is used to Audrey picking fault with her house and her choice of décor, and she is also used to putting up with her. Anything for a simpler life and less distress for her aging father. Plus, she must set a good example for Jane. _She is already far too hot-headed for her own good_ , Wendy thinks.

"Actually Aunt, these shades of green are all the range in _Vogue."_ Jane was quick with a response to her Aunt's unkind comment. Jane knew how fond of this room her mother was as she had clearly taken inspiration from a special place and if there was one thing that Jane Henley couldn't stand, it was unnecessary mean remarks that upset her sweet mother. She knew that Audrey had a subscription to _Vogue_ as when it launched in the UK two years ago in 1916, she boasted for weeks that she was one of the first in her circle of society ladies to be reading it. Keeping up with the current trend was one of Audrey's few delights in life. It gave Jane immense satisfaction to throw it in her Aunt's face… even if she had no idea if it was in fact true or not!

Not even looking slightly abashed for her comments, Audrey huffs that she had obviously missed an issue as she didn't recall seeing anything about putrid greens. "When is the dinner going to ready Wendy, my dear? I am quite ravenous," George asks, mercifully breaking the awkward silence. He pretends not to notice the glares between Audrey and his feisty granddaughter. "It won't be long now, Father," Wendy smiles gratefully. "How are they feeding you at the Home?"

George huffs. "Well it's not bad. It's a bit rubbery and nothing like your Mother's wonderful –"

"Oh Father we have been through this," John interrupts, sighing dramatically. "You are in the best home in most of London. I am sure the food is perfectly tolerable for you."

Wendy senses the revival of a topic that has been disputed many times between father and son prior to this particular Sunday, and she hastily changes tack. "Don't you remember Mother's Christmas dinners, Father? The endless roast potatoes, the stuffing, her secret recipe brandy snaps?" At the head of the table, George seems to be dreaming of the past, a small and sad smile on his face as he wistfully remembers a time when the table had more people sitting around it.

"Oh Wendy not you as well," huffs John again, with a frown. "There's no need to go upsetting our father unnecessarily."

"Actually Uncle," Jane speaks out before Wendy has a chance to reply, "I think Grandfather sometimes _likes_ telling stories about Grandmother."

"Yes!" pipes up little Danny, who really doesn't fully understand the conversation but wants to have his say. "We should always tell stories. Like when Mama tells me and Janey stories of Peter Pan!" Wendy inwardly cringes at Danny's words as she knows what will come next.

"Not this again, sister dear," says Audrey, "We all know those stories are make-believe nonsense and just fill your children's heads with silliness."

"They're not silly!" shouts Danny indignantly, his lower lip wobbling.

"Silly silly silly!" taunt Matilda and Maude. When Audrey doesn't say anything, John silences the twins and says, "Wendy, I think dinner might be ready now. I can smell burning."

Wendy is stunned by the twins' behaviour and their mother's lack of interest in their taunting of her son. Infuriated by her brother's embarrassing curt reminder about the dinner, Wendy takes a deep breath, stands and leaves the room to collect the lovingly prepared dishes of food.

Jane watches her mother go and is sure she hears a sob come from the direction of the kitchen. Her grandfather and uncle begin speaking once more about the bank and work and Aunt Audrey chastises Matilda and Maude about sitting properly without their elbows on the table. Danny sits slumped in his chair muttering to himself. _Probably talking to Peter Pan again,_ thinks Jane, fondly. He often talks to Peter Pan whenever he is upset or when playing a game. Jane used to join in but has recently lost the interest in pretending everything is a happy game when they are all stuck in the midst of a war. A war which has taken her daddy away.

Before she can get upset (she refuses to give her spiteful aunt the satisfaction), Jane excuses herself under the pretence of needing to go to the bathroom. She leaves the room quietly, unobserved by her family.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Jane reaches the top of the creaky staircase and fiercely wipes at her damp eyes. How could her uncle speak to her mother so? That dinner was painstakingly prepared utilising whatever they had available and, due to the healthy appetites of her cousins, Jane and her brother would likely be on meagre servings of whatever food was leftover in the pantry for the rest of the week. _Horrid human beings the lot of them,_ she thinks angrily, pacing the pin neat floor of the nursery. _I don't care if he has got a cane, he has no right to treat my mother so appallingly._

As for Aunt Audrey, how could she not berate her rude twin daughters to hold their tongue to their host and youngest cousin? To tease him thus always dreadfully upsets him. _I guess I sometimes do that,_ Jane admits guiltily. _But I always apologise or feel some remorse. That pair just don't think of anything but themselves._

Jane furiously collapses onto her bed and rubs her face into her pillow. The sweet smells of lavender and rosemary fill her nostrils. Her mother keeps the herbs in all of her linen drawers to give off sweet, soothing aromas in the bedrooms. _I must remember to appreciate her more._

These thoughts suddenly come to an abrupt halt. What is that noise? A faint tinkling sound seemed to be coming from down the hall. Jane shakes her head. She must be tired or simply hungry. But there it goes again, louder this time, clearer. A definite tinkling of some sort of… bells? Jane wonders how much time she has left before she is missed at the table. Five or so minutes? Plenty of time to check it out.

Jane creeps down the hallway, avoiding the spots that she knows let out distinctive creaks. She must keep up her pretence of being in the bathroom. The tinkling sound gets louder and Jane realises that the noise is coming from her mother's room. She pushes the door ajar and slips into the tidy bedroom. Neatness passes down from daughter to daughter in number 27 it seems. The pastel blue curtains swing from side to side in the warm May breeze and Jane quickly notices her mother's window is open. Night or day, that window never closes. Even in the winter it is still open, if only a crack. The nursery being on the other side of the wall, Jane remembers overhearing the countless hushed disagreements about the freezing winds in the wintery months. But still, the window would remain partly open. _Mother must have had a very good reason,_ ponders Jane. _And a very good husband!_

The tinkling sound is louder now and it pulls her back into the bedroom. It seems more insistent, more desperate to be heard somehow. Jane goes over to the window and looks behind the curtains, remembering this was her father's favourite hiding place in their many games of hide and seek on rainy afternoons. Nothing. She checks the drawers to her mother's bedside table; one, two, three. But there wasn't anything out of the ordinary hidden underneath the undergarments, nightdresses and cardigans.

The bells persist, demanding Jane to succeed in her search and find the source. They seem to be ringing in her ears, and way up into her brain."Okay, okay! My goodness what are you?" Jane cries out in frustration, her hands rising to cover her ears. "I don't know where to look!" Her eyes fall on her mother's dressing table. She runs to it and her hands hover by the drawers. Looking through someone's dressing table seems so personal, an invasion of a private space. Remembering the lack of time, Jane pulls open drawer after drawer. Nothing. Just perfumes and her mother's special jewellery boxes.

She tries the wardrobe now, a last attempt before her time runs out. Flinging the heavy oak doors open, Jane rifles through pockets of coats and shirts, handbags on the floor and boxes filled with shoes. Still no luck. The bells get louder and louder. Jane grabs her mother's stool that sits in front of her dressing table and drags it to the open doors of the wardrobe. She steps up, careful not to fall and cause a noisy commotion. Her hands skim over her and Danny's baby books, pots with their first curl and tooth, Jane's old Peter Pan hat. Jane feels suddenly ashamed, remembering the argument a few days previous when she screamed at her mother that Peter Pan was childish and she no longer wanted her hat. The hat that Wendy had sewn when Jane was only a few years old now lies forlorn on her mother's dusty self. Jane sniffles and pulls the hat down, inhaling her mother's comforting scent. The bells are squealing now, forcing Jane to hurry along in her search. She checks behinds her. Surely someone will hear this racket? Jane quickly tucks her hat under her arm. _I must be getting close,_ she thinks. Her tummy is twisted into a nervous knot; unsure now whether she wants to unearth the source of this incessant noise.

Jane's hand weaves between hat boxes and a suitcase, brushing over he father's old winter hat. She moves Wendy's old ragdoll out of the way so she can reach the very back of the shelf. Such a pretty old thing with blonde pigtails and a little lilac dress with white daises decorating her skirts. Jane knows how special this doll is to her mother since _her_ mother had made Lizzy Doll when she was a little girl.

Something suddenly catches her eye, tucked away at the very back of the shelf. It is an old shoe box, vibrating and shaking as if something is desperate to escape from its prison. Jane tentatively pulls it into the light to find it is covered in a thick layer of dust. Swallowing back a sneeze, she carefully brushes aside the dust and slowly lifts up the lid. She peeks inside and inhales sharply.


End file.
